


Ciphers, enigmas, secret sauce

by pants2match



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: F/F, Gen, Post-Episode: s09e14 200
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-07
Updated: 2014-06-07
Packaged: 2018-02-03 18:31:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1754165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pants2match/pseuds/pants2match
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You know, I don't think I've ever seen JJ smile like that..."</p><p>Dave’s lips twitch around the tumbler before he takes a sip. “No one has, not for a long time,”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ciphers, enigmas, secret sauce

It doesn’t take long for everyone to group off. The boys go decompress, Derek slings his arm around Reid while Hotch and Will talk about Jack and Henry and how they really need to get their boys together — Jack being older now has been not-so-secretly wishing he had a younger sibling (brother, specifically), and how Henry fits the bill; Penelope wedges herself between JJ and Emily, loops her arms through theirs whenever the opportunity presents itself, while Dave makes sure Emily spills all JJ and Pen’s dirty little secrets to Alex.

From there, the pairs break off. Hotch and Will move to the end of the bar, no doubt having moved onto shop-talk; Penelope eventually, finally, releases her girls from her death grip, being coaxed over by Derek to come sidle up to Reid, give him the same attention she had JJ and Emily; JJ and Emily, they end up at a table by the window, Emily sipping at her Mint Julep while JJ sticks to her not-even-qualifies-as-a-Screwdriver Screwdriver, they’re huddled together, shoulder-to-shoulder, neither able to relinquish any contact.

Dave and Alex end up all-but-slumped at the bar, sipping at the… very expensive scotch he’d insisted upon. Every so often they’ll swivel on the barstools, silently watching over their team, their family. Eventually, they both lay eyes on Emily and JJ.

"You know, I don't think I've ever seen JJ smile like that..."

Dave’s lips twitch around the tumbler before he takes a sip. “No one has, not for a long time,”

There was always something different about their relationship, and today was a shining example of that. Alex, unsurprisingly, seemed to pick up on it straight away; there was an air about them, the team, whenever someone mentioned Emily or London or Interpol or _tea_ or—there was a list a mile long of things that, when mentioned, their glances seemed to gravitate towards JJ, to see the ghost of a smile or to make sure she doesn’t crumble (dramatic, yes, but not entirely untrue); and any well-trained agent would be sacked if they didn’t notice it.

Alex waits, bides her time and mulls over words before speaking.

“They’re close…?” It’s the best she can come up with — she’s exhausted and a little drunker than she’d planned on being — but it does the job, lure’s Dave into conversation that would otherwise be brushed off with a snark and a wink.

He turns to her, his eyebrows twitch and lips curl and she knows she’s hit her mark.

“They’re… a mystery…” he trails off. He goes to answer again and again before he finishes off his Scotch, tapping the bar for another.

“That bad, huh?”

He nods and she almost misses it. If David Rossi, a man who has a word, a remark, an answer for everything when it comes to personal, can’t bring himself to form an honest, coherent sentence on the topic, it must be complicated.

They go back to their drinks, distract each other from the utter insanity of these last eight, nine months, and it’s not until they both turn back around—like clockwork, almost—that he comes up with the words.

“They’re tangled in some clumsy, international, inter-agency Dan Brown novel brought to life,”

(His distain for this author is legendary. She thinks he might cross over into fiction, one day, just out of spite.)

“That sounds… intriguing,”

He should know better by now, that although her past may not have traversed agencies or timezones, her personal life before the BAU is still shrouded in ambiguity and uncertainty, only surfacing when imperative to a case, or on her own, strict, terms.

(She loves the team, she does, honestly and wholly — they all have an attachment to each other that would be not only frowned, but scowled upon in almost any other unit — but there are still things, times, that, although she is in no way ashamed of them, would just raise questions that no longer need to be answered. Respect for the dead, and all that.)

They watch the two women, unabashedly, unashamedly, as they sit, revelling in the closeness and it’s evident they’ve missed each other desperately. In her peripheral Alex see’s a curtain of blond curls spin and she focusses her gaze on Penelope, nudging Dave after a moment; she’s watching them just as they’d been, and she’s got this dreamy smile on her face as she pulls Derek’s arm from her shoulder to her waist, he turns into her and pulls her close. There’s tears in Penelope’s eyes threatening to spill over.

Out of everyone, Alex thinks, today has affected her most acutely.

She knows, long term, Spencer will take it the hardest, but Penelope… she’d run herself as ragged as one can in under twenty-four hours and it’s starting to show. She hadn’t broken, not once, though out this entire ordeal, and now she’s starting to crack, to fissure, and it’s only a matter of time before she succumbs to the emotional fatigue. Derek pulls her tighter, tries to turn her away from them, but it’s no use. She needs this, to see her girls safe and sound and all but entwined in each other. She’s blinking back tears and finally shifts her gaze around the room, anything to focus on to stop her vision blurring. After a moment she spots Alex and Dave and they try (and fail, miserably) to turn back around unnoticed. It’s mere seconds before she’s untangled from Derek and is leaning against the bar next to Alex.

They both turn to Penelope, knowing they’re both a reprieve and a better vantage point, and Alex speaks first.

“How are you holding up?”

“Me?” She acts dumbfounded. If she were anyone else she’d try and change the subject, completely bypass anything to do with the topic, but this is Penelope Garcia, and she has never hidden her feelings when it wasn’t vital to the spare those of others.

“I’m just… happy my girls are safe.” Her voice wavers and Alex places her hand over Penelope’s. Penelope is tactile, is all hugs and kisses and arms threaded through each other, and Alex knows this will at the least be some small comfort. Penelope returns a watery smile as she looks back to JJ and Emily.

Alex pulls the nearest barstool over and pats it for her to sit, nudging Dave to get the bartender’s attention for another round of whatever the hell this sublime label is — apparently she and Rossi were making their way through it and she’s tempted to go in halves with him for the bottle.

It’s a while before any of them talk again, talk about anything important, anyway — when Penelope splutters, struggling to swallow her drink, Rossi gives her a refresher course on Scotch drinking, and Alex laughs at the thought of  Dave in his living room while he tries to explain to a tipsy Garcia the subtle differences between single grain, blended malt, single malt, blended _grain_ , and plain old blended Scotch.

When Penelope breaks, she’s almost silent. She sniffles and blinks and swallows and it’s not long before she’s taking a deep, shaky breath.

“I could’ve lost—I could’ve lost them _both._ Hotch told me that Em went after her, chased her to the roof—and then Hastings fell off—fell off and _died_ ,” Dave moves off his seat and settles into her other side, running his hand up and down her back, while Alex smooths hers over Garcia’s hand. “And it’s just—if Emily hadn’t been there, if Emily hadn’t _known_ then—“ she breaks into tears before she comes up again for air.

“I’m just really glad they’re both okay, you know?”

She sniffs and wipes her nose with Rossi’s handkerchief ( _which is still gross, but thanks_ ). “You know what? No more sad. Right now, I’m between two of my most favourite people in the whole universe, with some really _really_ good alcohol. My girls are safe and together and so is my family. So no more sad, just happy.”

So, they drink to that: to their family, and health, and safety. 

And Xena.

After a while, Dave is called over by Morgan to assist in regaling the origin of some legendary inside joke from before Alex’s time, and it’s just her and Penelope

JJ and Emily are still at their table, still completely engrossed in each other and Penelope sighs happily as she casts her gaze back upon them.

“They’ve always been… this mystery… this—this cipher… wrapped in an—“

“—an enigma, smothered in secret sauce?” Alex offers stone-faced and Penelope sees stars.

“Professor Blake, will the wonders ever cease?” She’s grinning a full-blown Penelope Garcia grin and Alex can’t help but reciprocate.

It’s another few hours before anyone makes the move to leave. Will takes a shot at convincing JJ to come home, but when she looks at Emily and Spence over her shoulder, he knows it’s no use. When they do leave, though, it takes a good half-hour to get out the door. Between Penelope’s vice-grip and the way JJ can’t seem to get herself out of Emily’s orbit, it’s a wonder it only took that long. 

At some point Alex had begged off to the ladies’ room, and Dave got desperate for a refill. They end up back next to each other at the bar.

“I guess I got lucky.” She hears an interested _hmm_ come from beside her. “They never got to be together… at least…”

“Hmm?”

“I just have this feeling like… like they’ll never get closure or—I don’t know. Sounds like a hell of a story, though.”

“I always forget how damn perceptive you are.”

Alex shrugs, “its a gift.” 


End file.
